


A Very Affirming Relationship

by rude_not_ginger



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 17:37:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rude_not_ginger/pseuds/rude_not_ginger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The month prior to "His Last Vow", and how Sherlock Holmes acquired a girlfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Affirming Relationship

"You left the wedding early." Accent: Irish. Slight slurring of final word in sentence, sign of moderate intoxication. Conclusion: Janine, the bridesmaid.

He does not reply, merely curls his toes against the carpeting. John always hated the carpeting in 221b. Sherlock loved it. Still does. It holds signs of movement, of life, of old cigarettes and failed experiments. It is a sign of home.

He has since shed the battle armor of John's wedding, tossing the tie into the fire. Smoke curls up from his cigarette. He had intended to stay for the entirety of the wedding, of course. Intended to dance, intended to leave by the time there were only ten people left, something the internet had informed him was the "right time" for a best man to leave. But he did not want to simply stand there, the odd man without a dance partner. So he left. He imagined that John would simply assume he saw his best friend somewhere in the background, and no one would notice he was gone.

Janine, it appeared, noticed.

"I got your number from Mary's phone," she adds. "Not much of a deduction, but I do what I can."

He clears his throat and taps the ash onto the carpet. "I thought you were focusing a bit on your newfound friend."

"I am," she replies. Voice tone: flirtatious. "But he's not here to dance with me."

The conversation does not continue much further. She is called away by Mary for more dancing, but she assures him that she will be keeping his number in her phone. To expect her to call. He expects some sort of a sexual innuendo, but he receives none. She doesn't push, but she lets him know that his presence is missed. This, oddly enough, makes him feel oddly pleased.

"Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson says, pushing open the door. She has only just arrived from the wedding, and is more than a little intoxicated herself, and her hat is askew. "There's someone here to see you."

*~

Magnussen is fascinating. Fascinating in the same way that cancer or a particularly vicious parasite is fascinating. He makes Sherlock sick, just reading what he does to others. Sherlock had seen the streak of saliva wiped from Lady Smallwood's face as she sat across from him that night, her spine not broken despite how disgusted she was.

To stop Magnussen would take finesse. This would take negotiations. If Sherlock had it his way, he would rip Magnussen apart. It might not be possible, but he can try.

His phone rings. It is Janine again. She is persistent. He is tempted to go on a date with her simply to have her stop bothering him. This worked at university. He would go out with a girl, they would realize just how irritating he could be, and then he would never have to worry about them bothering him. It will be the same with Janine, he is sure. Then, he can focus on Magnussen. Focus on this case he is solving on his own.

"Yes, all right," he says into the phone, not bothering any greeting when he answers. "Lunch, two hours."

"Well, someone's cheerful," Janine replies. "Right, then. Where?"

They meet at Angelo's. If Sherlock is going to end his relationship with Janine, he might as well not pay for it. She orders a dish heavy in carbohydrates, with a tomato sauce. Sherlock orders the same, simply because he has no appetite, not while he's working.

"Not counting calories, then," Sherlock says, observing her meal. "Therapy must have gone well."

Janine's eyebrows knit together. "Sorry?" 

"Stretch marks on your lower shoulder. You've yo-yoed with your weight in the past. An eating disorder in your early twenties, I'd say. You focus now on running to maintain your weight, but refuse to allow yourself to count caloric intake. Probably on the advice of a therapist." He's quite impressed with himself, actually. Weight loss, eating disorders, and any sort of situation attached to them are always fantastically touchy subjects for women, and he's found a button in Janine in the first thirty seconds of their meal. She will stand up, irritated, and leave. He is sure of it. 

It's almost a shame to see her go, really. She's touched up her lipstick for this meal, and it's the same shade that the Woman wore. He finds it an arousing and enticing shade of lipstick, one he enjoys staring at. It brings back…memories. Had he not so brilliantly insulted Janine, he might like to stare at her mouth a little more.

Instead of leaving, however, she laughs. "Nail on the head, really. Can't fight my hips, my doctor says. No matter how I tried when I was younger. Might as well embrace them."

His eyebrows knit together, and she laughs again.

"Don't try so hard to scare me off, Sherlock," she says. "I'm a grown-up. I can handle my own past." She leans across the table, touching his hand with hers. "What I want to know is how we're getting this meal for free. How did you figure out he was housebreaking?"

Janine and her lips stay across the table from him throughout lunch. He decides after the pasta arrives that the shade of lipstick looks extremely different on Janine than it did on the Woman. The Woman was pale, her lips sharp and striking. Janine's skin is olive, and her lips are slightly more muted, though the color is unmistakably the same.

"You're a PA," he says as they leave the restaurant. "Your shoe height determines that, as well as the pencil skirt."

"Have you worked out from where?" she asks.

"I have it narrowed down to three places."

"None of them are right, I'll tell you that," she says.

He raises an eyebrow. "Aren't they?"

"Nope," she replies. "But I'll give you a hint. It'll cost you, though."

He blinks. "Cost me." He is certain that she's wrong and he's narrowed it down, but he is completely at a loss as to what she could possibly want in payment for a 'clue' about her job. He paid for lunch, more or less, isn't that enough of a payment?

"Yep," she says. "You've been staring at my mouth all of lunch, Sherlock Holmes. Give me a kiss, and I'll tell you where I work."

A kiss. A kiss? He finds himself taken aback. "That's not---what this---"

"No, you're trying to scare me off," she says. "But you see, I see you. I know what sort of a man you are. Not going to frighten me, that's for certain."

She takes a step towards him, curling her fingers in the edge of his scarf. She's not going to be frightened, she says. That's not what he expected. Not even remotely.

"But I think I'm frightening you a bit," she whispers. He can hear the traffic outside. He knows that he shouldn't be able to focus on her words quite as much as he does. Perhaps, however, he's simply not used to someone speaking to him like this. This tone, this vocal key, this is all very unusual to him. That's why he's focusing on it.

She leans up, and her red lips are pressing against his. Her mouth is not like the Woman's, not small and tight and full of secrets. No, it is large and full and open. She kisses lazily, easily, comfortably. Her mouth tastes like tomato sauce and white wine. He does not kiss back.

She still looks immensely pleased with herself, and she leans back to whisper in his ear.

"I work for Mr. Magnussen. Don't bet you've heard of _him_."

Charles Augustus Magnussen. He was not on Sherlock's list of potential employers for Janine.

Janine has just earned herself a second date.

*~

By the time they leave the cinema, Sherlock has formulated a plan for maintaining what Magnussen's schedule is. Janine's entire work life is based around the man, so therefore Sherlock will know what Magnussen is doing by acting as though he cares about what Janine is doing. She is an excellent asset to this case, and all he has to do is pretend he cares.

"Don't pretend you care," she says to him. "I know that bored you."

"No," Sherlock says, firmly. "I find bobbits---"

"Hobbits."

"Immensely…" He searches for the right word. "Interesting."

Janine laughs. It's a full, hearty sound. She is truly enjoying herself, and therefore the lie behind his interest can't be that terrible, not really. Not that he cares, he informs himself. Janine is just an asset, after all.

She invites him inside of her place. She pours them both a drink. The internet has informed him that it usually takes three dates to advance to sexuality, so Sherlock doesn't feel any sort of discomfort as she undoes her cardigan and slips into the couch next to him.

"Come on, Sherl," she says, leaning into him. "Tell me what you were really thinking about during the film."

He means to correct her instantly, because the only person who can call him 'Sherl' is his mother, who also takes it to calling Mycroft 'Myke' and is rarely corrected. He is, however, distracted by Janine's scent.

Her hair is down and smells like floral notes, with spice and coconut. Versace, he determines. Not the same fragrance the Woman wore. The Woman, again. Perhaps it is because Janine's hair is long and dark and while it is down, she bares a striking resemblance to the Woman.

"Do you compare me to other men?" he asks. "Men you have been with before?"

It's not something he means to ask. He doesn't care, he tells himself. After all, he has no real interest in Janine, apart from having her as an asset to his case, and to not bother him when he's trying to work.

"Are you saying I've been with a lot of men or something?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

He could lie, he could flatter her, but he decides not to. That isn't---how would the Woman put it?---what she would _like_. Janine likes it when Sherlock deduces her. She likes the honesty of his words, the near-brutality. She should probably see her therapist more often.

"You know how to pull," he replies, simply. "And I could probably describe a dozen of them in only a few minutes, but that's not what I asked."

Janine smiles. "You want to know what's going on here." She taps her forehead. "When I look at you."

She reaches out, touching a lock of his hair. He is not accustomed to frequent touches, and he's certainly not accustomed to this sort of closeness. She must know that. Perhaps his discomfort is something she likes as well.

"Or are you trying to work out what's going on in here?" she asks. "Seeing me as an old girlfriend? Have you _had_ an old girlfriend to see me as?"

It's surprisingly observant of her. Janine is intelligent, this is obvious. She can see what he's asking, even if she doesn't answer it.

This time, when she leans in to kiss him, he does kiss her back. He tells himself it's simply asset retention.

*~

Magnussen is out of the country for a week. Sherlock has been talking to a few of his old friends from when he was extensively using, creating a new identity for Magnussen to find, so he can see Sherlock as less of a threat. It has nothing to do with John's absence, he tells himself. Nothing to do with the baby that is growing within Mary, and the life they are creating for themselves that will not have anything to do with Sherlock Holmes and 221b Baker Street.

However, yes. Magnussen is out of the country for a week, and Janine has time off. She wants to spend it with Sherlock Holmes, who still has yet to properly correct her when she calls him 'Sherl'. He actively doesn't correct her when she calls Mycroft 'Myke', however, because that is really very funny.

Sherlock and Janine are on date four. She presses her mouth to his, her hips against his, and practically pulls him in the direction of the bedroom upon entry to 221b. The last time they were here, she informed him it was disgusting, a dump, and that he needed to keep the coffee away from the human eyeballs. She didn't leave, though, not until she was done talking with him about her day at work, snogging him a bit, and only when Mrs. Hudson arrived to tell him that he had a visitor.

The visitor may or may not have been pre-planned by Sherlock. Third date sexuality and all that.

This time was spontaneous on her part, however, and he has no pre-planned visitor to stop any sexual activity. This fact terrifies him. It is not so much that he is terrified of sex, the very idea is idiotic, but because he has no intention of having sex with Janine. He never has. She is nice, and when she presses her body against his, she feels nice, but she is not the Woman. 

There is only one Woman to Sherlock Holmes, even if she is somewhere on the planet that is not with him. In a classical sense, he supposes that makes him the Woman's paramour, with a desire that is chaste and absent from her. Not that Sherlock is in any sense a romantic, nor does he care for classical love. All the same, even pressing his mouth against Janine's neck as he expects she desires feels like _cheating_. Yet, he must maintain what he's built with Janine. He needs that information she has.

Janine pushes Sherlock down onto the bed and straddles him. Her face is flushed, her eyes are dilated. He tried insulting her earlier today in order to throw her off tonight, but that appears to have only enticed her more. She likes the challenge he's set for her. She _likes him_. Human error, he tells himself. She should know better than to feel anything sentimental towards him. He likes her, but there is no playground emphasis on the word. Janine is interesting to him and enjoyable to be around, for the most part. She wants intimacy he can't give, though.

Her hand presses against the front of his trousers, and her eyebrows knit together.

"You all right?" she asks.

He looks for the right lie. He has no arousal because, despite how she's trying, he's not aroused. "Bit nervous," he replies. "I have read this happens regularly to men in their mid thirties engaging in new relationships."

"Read?" she asks, and she lets out that warm, amused laugh. She moves her body so she's no longer straddling him, but is, instead, lying up against him. It's a very intimate position, but less stressful than having her legs wrapped around his waist. "You researched dating before you went out with me?"

He feels, oddly enough, sheepish. It's not something he's supposed to do. It's what people consider 'Not Good', he imagines. The complete lack of knowledge base.

She leans in, her lips brushing his ear. "I've done the same, you know."

He can't hide the surprise from his voice. "You---have?"

"Of course," she says. "First time I've dated a sociopath."

"Oh," he says. "What's it like?"

"I don't know," she says. "The book says that the best thing for a relationship with a sociopath is to remain patient but affirming."

He nods. "Affirming."

That's what his relationship with John is like, he thinks. Patient and affirming. Well, would be, if there weren't a new chapter beginning for him. A new wife, a new child. Sherlock will be missing from that equation, and he will have none of the affirmation or patience he's used to.

He can't wait for next week, when he can use again. Just the once, or twice, to make himself look like the drug addict he wants Magnussen to think he is.

"What's it like," she asks, looking up at him in the half-light. "Dating _me_?"

He considers for a moment, and reaches over, brushing his fingertip down her nose. It is flatter and a little wider than the Woman's, but he still likes it. It suits Janine, the woman who reads up on the sociopath she's supposed to be dating. He also likes the way she wears that red lipstick. It isn't the same as the Woman's, he's come to realize. It's still good, though.

"You are the only person who really sees me," he says, voice soft and gentle and with so much caring. He's being romantic, so the whole thing is really a lie. He can't say that sort of nonsense in front of John, or even the Woman for that matter. They'd see through it. Janine wants him to be romantic, even just a little bit.

She flushes, and her eyes water. She's touched. He's being cruel, he thinks, but that's all right. She's tucked against his arm and he doesn't feel as uncomfortable as he should feel. That's as close to romance as he can muster and she wouldn't understand that.

She asks him if they can undress before bed, and he says that's fine. He wonders if it's a ploy to engage in sexuality, or perhaps she's simply allowing him to see her as she truly is. She takes off her dress and stands there, fully nude, before him. Her measurements are 38-28-36, and she has a slight bikini tan line, as well as an appendicitis scar across her hip. She is, objectively, beautiful. He tells her this verbally, because his body still does not react sexually.

"Do you want to dance with me?" she asks.

"I'm still---"

She shakes her head. "I mean really dance."

She turns to the small radio in his room and flips it on. The violin waltz he wrote for John and Mary comes on. She steps forward and puts her hand on his bare hip, and then traces it upwards to the bullet wound scar on his left shoulder.

"This looks deep," she says.

"It was," he agrees. He puts his hand to the scar at her hip and takes her free hand in his. He steps forward, and without her high heels or dress in the way, she moves with significantly more grace. Perhaps she has been practicing. Guilt moves through him the way the bullet wound in his shoulder did during his hiatus from London.

He wonders what sort of a wound he will leave for Janine when this is done.


End file.
